A/N: Now back to more Lancelot and Lily!
Chapter 1
Lancelot looked around the room, making sure everything was in order. "Do you need anything before I leave?" he asked Lily.
"I'm fine," she assured him.
He was still hesitant to leave, even though these peace talks with the Druids were of great importance and he wanted to be there to support Merlin and Arthur. But he also wanted to be there for his wife.
"It'll be another month before the baby comes," she assured him. "You don't have to worry."
"I just want to be here when it happens," he said.
"I know, and you will be. But right now, you're needed elsewhere."
Lancelot sighed and leaned in to kiss her farewell. He paused to lay a hand over her swollen belly. A thump kicked against the spot, and he broke into a wide smile. "It's always a surprise when the baby does that," he commented. "I can barely fathom there's a life growing inside there."
"Try living with it kicking up a storm at all hours," Lily replied. "I can't wait for it to come out and I'll be able to bend over and pick things up from the floor again."
Lancelot grinned and finally forced himself to pull away. He had his duty.
He headed down to the courtyard to meet up with the rest of Arthur's entourage. The knights were checking their gear while Merlin was fussing with his long blue cloak.
"Why do I have to wear this?" he bemoaned to Arthur.
"Because this is a formal meeting and you're going as my court sorcerer," the king replied.
Merlin huffed. "The Druids will know me with or without the finery."
"Stuff it, Merlin," Arthur rejoined and mounted his horse.
The knights exchanged a few snickers as Merlin struggled to climb into the saddle without getting his nice new cloak all bunched up. Merlin kept grumbling about it as they set off toward the woods.
It'd been a few weeks since Merlin had reached out to the Druids on Arthur's behalf to work out a peace treaty between them. They were skeptical at first, but they trusted Merlin, or Emrys, and were finally ready to talk. Though, they refused to come to Camelot. Arthur didn't take offense and was willing to go to them.
The entourage arrived at the predetermined location: neutral ground. The Druid elders were already there, as were several others, having set up a small camp and a squat table with short stools to sit on. Camelot's party dismounted and left their horses on the outskirts.
"King Arthur," the Druid leader greeted, inclining his head first at Arthur and then Merlin. "Emrys."
"Seoc," Merlin acknowledged.
"Please, sit," the man invited.
Arthur and Merlin went to sit at the table while the knights remained standing behind them in a show of ceremony, not force. Or so was the intention. The Druids were shooting guarded looks their way regardless.
"You must understand," Seoc began. "My people are wary of Uther Pendragon's son."
Arthur nodded solemnly. "I understand, and I am sorry for the persecution my father built his reign on—and the orders I carried out personally. But I have no interest in ruling a kingdom founded on fear and prejudice. There has been a lot of hurt on both sides, but I hope we can all find a way to move forward."
Seoc looked at Merlin. "You have always chosen to stand by Arthur Pendragon," he said, and it was difficult to tell whether that statement was laced with accusation or not.
"I have, because he's a good man, and a great king. Arthur will unite all of Albion, and we want magic users to be included in that peace."
"Those are golden words for a golden age," Seoc replied. "I hope it does not prove false."
Lancelot tried not to feel tense as he watched the proceedings. He understood the Druids' reticence, but he hoped they could find the courage to trust Arthur. He would not let them down.
A crossbow bolt suddenly zinged through the air, hitting Seoc in the shoulder. The impact knocked him backward off the stool, and in that second of complete shock, a large troop of men ambushed the meeting. Lancelot and his fellow knights drew their swords and turned to meet the attackers head on. They were all wearing masks, and while a handful of them charged in for battle, several more stayed back with crossbows to shoot at the Druids as they tried to flee for cover.
"Merlin!" Lancelot shouted, trying to draw his attention to the archers.
Merlin whipped around, eyes flaring gold. He thrust a hand out, and an invisible blast of magic slammed into the archers, throwing them through the air.
Lancelot stabbed his sword into his opponent, then pivoted to confront the next. The skirmish only lasted several minutes; after their initial element of surprise was over, the masked assailants turned to retreat. Elyan and Gwaine chased after a few, while the other knights finished off the last of their foes.
The stillness as the last sword fell silent gave way to whimpers and moans, and Lancelot swept his gaze around the numerous wounded. One Druid lay with eyes open and vacant, an arrow to the heart. Merlin immediately leaped over the broken table to lend aid, and Lancelot sheathed his sword so he could help.
Seoc staggered forward, hand clutching his arm with the bolt still protruding from it. His expression was fraught with grief and devastation. "This is on you," he seethed at Arthur.
Arthur blinked, taken aback. "I had nothing to do with this."
Seoc shook his head. "You may wish for peace, but it is clear not all of your subjects do. So how can there ever be trust between us?"
"Hang on," Leon interjected. "We don't know where these men came from."
"This meeting was known to you," Seoc rejoined.
"Seoc, please," Merlin beseeched. "We can't let anyone sabotage our peace efforts. Only by uniting can we truly change things.
"No," the Druid declared. "Not if change comes at the price of my people's blood." He waved at the other Druids. "Gather the wounded and dead and return to camp."
"Let us help," Arthur said. "We have medicines back at Camelot—"
"You've done enough," Seoc retorted.
Lancelot and Merlin backed away as the Druids collected their own and started to leave. They couldn't force help upon them, no matter how difficult it was to stand by and do nothing.
Gwaine and Elyan returned a few moments later.
"We lost them," Elyan reported, slowing to a stop and looking around in confusion. "Where did the Druids go?"
"They left," Arthur said dourly. "The peace talks are over."
Leon and Percival bent down next to some of the slain men and pulled their masks off. Lancelot didn't recognize them, nor did any of the others.
"They could be mercenaries," Leon said.
"Will there always be someone in Camelot working against me?" Arthur said dejectedly.
No one said anything to that. Lancelot knew from personal experience that members of Arthur's Council had schemed behind his back against magic users. They all wanted to believe that was over, but evidence like today made it difficult not to question.
"If there are," Lancelot spoke up, "they are in the minority."
"Doesn't do us much good now," Arthur replied. "Search the bodies."
The knights spread out to check each mercenary's pockets, but they didn't find any correspondance or evidence to suggest who had sent them.
And so their group retrieved their horses and returned to Camelot in defeat.
Lancelot went back up to his chambers where he found Lily watering her plants.
"That was quick," she said with a quirked frown.
Lancelot slumped into a chair and ran a hand down his face. "The meeting was ambushed, we don't know by who. Several Druids were wounded and they blame us."
"How can they blame you?" she exclaimed, setting the watering can down and coming over to sit next to him.
"Either because we led the attackers to them or someone in Camelot is plotting against the peace talks."
Lily exhaled heavily. "Is there any way to find out who?"
"I'm sure Arthur will try to investigate," Lancelot replied.
"Then I hope the knights find who was behind it. Maybe apprehending them will convince the Druids to come back to the table."
They could only hope.
Merlin sat at his desk in his study, poring over his magic books.
When Arthur promoted him to court sorcerer, he'd offered to give Merlin his own chambers, but Merlin hadn't wanted to leave his room at Gaius's. He had, however, found use for his own workspace. And if he sometimes stayed up late falling asleep at the table, that didn't make this his bedchamber.
The door creaked open as Arthur entered. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"Looking for a truth potion so we can question the members of the court."
Arthur sighed. "Merlin. We can't go around giving people a truth potion. It will breed mistrust."
"Not if they don't have anything to hide," he replied staunchly. "We bluffed our way through this once with Lily's magic."
"There's a difference between a bluff and coercing people into taking a magic potion. I know you're frustrated; I am too. But this is one problem that can't be solved with magic."
Merlin sagged, downcast. "We were so close."
"I know. But we can try again in the future." Arthur rapped his knuckles on the desk. "Get some rest."
Merlin nodded. "Night."
Arthur nodded back and left. Merlin blew out the candles and closed up, then headed down to Gaius's chambers to go to bed. The corridors were mostly empty this late at night, the sparsely placed torches casting whole sections in shadow.
Merlin was just walking through one when he felt a displacement of air, and then a thick piece of rope was suddenly around his neck and yanking backward, hard. His surprised gasp was immediately choked off, and he clawed at the rope and hands tightening it ever harder. The coarse fiber dug into his skin, pinching his airway and vocal cords and preventing him from drawing breath and calling for help. Panic flooded him, and his feet scrabbled against the stone as his assailant kept wrenching him backward, almost lifting him off the floor.
His magic flared, but he couldn't think enough to direct it, and so it sputtered near the surface just as his choking breaths were. He tried to fling himself sideways, tried to disrupt his attacker's balance and find some leverage against him. It didn't work. The man held fast, and Merlin thought the rough hemp was going to cut right through his jugular.
He thrashed more urgently as his vision went spotty, and they crashed into a candelabrum that went clattering to the floor. Merlin's lungs and throat were on fire, his cheeks puffing out as he choked and gurgled on spit. He was going to die.
There was a muffled shout, and then someone tackled the assailant, bringing all three of them to the floor. The rope loosened, and Merlin rolled onto his stomach as he coughed and hacked raggedly, still unable to breathe past the dry heaving. He vaguely recognized Gwaine grappling with his attacker, but his vision was too blurry to follow who was who. Someone took a punch to the side of the head and went down.
Merlin couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Gwaine was shouting his name, but the sounds were going fuzzy as darkness crashed down on him.